


Weirdest Night Ever

by perpetualwhim



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Drunkenness, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetualwhim/pseuds/perpetualwhim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy wanders back to the bar to get some more champagne, and when he reaches for the bottle, he notices someone squatting down and rummaging through the bottles under the bar, and it's a good thing he was already going for another glass, because that's a <em>Norse god</em> hanging out at about waist height and looking curiously at a bottle of peach schnapps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weirdest Night Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt for the Daredevil kinkmeme: _Because the crack!fic generator demands it to be so_
> 
>  
> 
> _No seriously if you can do a serious fanfic with this pairing because it is my new favourite thing._
> 
>  
> 
> _(bonus points for incorporating the head canon Foggy could lift the hammer)_

After three glasses of champagne, Foggy is finally starting to forget that he doesn't belong at this party. He's not _comfortable_ , by any stretch of the imagination, but he's stopped feeling the urge to bolt because holy shit, that's _Captain America_ not ten feet away, and he's trading war stories with a guy who flies around with wings, actual _wings_ , strapped to his back. This is the third party he's been to at Avengers Tower, and he's still half-convinced that any moment a bucket of pig's blood will fall on him and they'll all turn around and laugh and force him to burn the whole building down. 

At least he'd get psychic powers out of it. That would be neat. Then maybe _he_ would get the invites to these things, instead of being Matt's "plus one".

And there's Matt, his ticket to the world of crazy superhero parties, chatting amiably with Black Widow--Natasha, he has to remind himself, and it's so weird that he's on a first-name basis with a superspy--as if it's not the _coolest fucking thing_ in the world that he gets to hang out with these people on a semi-regular basis. Matt has always been the calm one; has always taken everything in stride while Foggy does enough freaking out for the both of them.

Foggy wanders back to the bar to get some more champagne, and when he reaches for the bottle, he notices someone squatting down and rummaging through the bottles under the bar, and it's a good thing he was already going for another glass, because that's a _Norse god_ hanging out at about waist height and looking curiously at a bottle of peach schnapps. 

Thor looks up and says, brightly, "Ah, Franklin Nelson! It is good to see you again!"

"Uh, thanks," Foggy manages, "you too. And you can just call me 'Foggy.'"

"Foggy, as you wish. I'm unfamiliar with Midgardian spirits; perhaps you could recommend one?"

Foggy gently takes the bottle from his hand. "First off, put _that_ back," he says, pushing it towards the back. "You'll give yourself diabetes. What do you usually drink at these things?"

"I'm not sure. Usually there's a bartender, and I leave it to his judgement."

It doesn't take long for Foggy to slip into the surreal role of professor of Alcohol 101. He pours a splash of one thing after another, and Thor tastes each one with solemn consideration. Vodka tastes like water, he says. Whiskey reminds him of an Asgardian liquor he's not too fond of. Gin is good; a little spicy and very smooth. And that's when Foggy finds the unopened bottle of sambuca tucked away in the back, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Thor has a _ridiculous_ alcohol tolerance, but after drinking the entire bottle (minus a couple of shots for Foggy), he's teaching Asgardian drinking songs to Clint Barton and Stark's colonel friend, and Foggy's pretty sure a little something has been lost in translation, because it involves three women and a goat, and he can't tell if it's about a foot race or an orgy. He keeps winding his way back over to wherever Foggy is, throwing one arm over his shoulder (and _ow_ , it's like being hugged by a side of beef), and telling him and anyone nearby how grateful he is that Foggy showed him such a _delightful_ beverage. It's kind of embarrassing, really, but as far as he can tell, everyone is laughing with him, not at him.

Foggy sticks by Matt for most of the party, because he's still got _no idea_ to navigate these waters. He extricates himself from a fascinating and also kind of frightening and gross conversation between Matt and Natasha about hand-to-hand fighting techniques so that he can use the bathroom, and on his way out he trips and nearly goes face-first into a door frame. Thor's hammer is just sitting there, right in front of the door where people need to walk, and Foggy sighs and drags it over to rest against the wall, while making a mental note to make sure Thor knows where it is. 

On his way back from the bathroom, Thor is standing in the hallway, holding a half-empty bottle of gin and staring at him like a wolf looking at a filet mingnon. "You moved my hammer," he said simply.

Crap, that was probably some kind of godly faux pas--thou shalt not touch the stuff of a divine being. "Oh yeah, uh, sorry. I just moved it out of the way so nobody would trip on it. You know, didn't want it to get scuffed up or anything."

"What kind of trick is this?" Thor demands. "I watched you move it. What are you playing at?"

"What? No, man. No playing, no trick. I just got it out of the way. I was going to tell you where it was as soon as I got back." Foggy feels his heart racing; is Thor an angry drunk? He really hopes not.

Thor looks him up and down, and Foggy's skin prickles uncomfortably. "You should not have moved it. You should not have _been able_ to move it."

"Okay, once again--really sorry about that. I promise I won't do it again. Thor's hammer: no touchy." Foggy begins to edge his way around Thor, very eager to get back to the relative safety of the party. 

As he begins to squeeze past Thor (and it's not a small hallway; Thor just takes up so much of it), Thor's hand grabs him by the shirt and Foggy finds himself being pressed firmly against the wall. Thor's face comes in close, and jeez, the smell of alcohol wafting off him is somewhere around fire hazard levels, and he regards Foggy with slitted eyes. "You have fascinating lips," Thor says, and kisses him.

"Mmmph," Foggy says, which is approximately what he'd be saying even if he didn't have a mouthful of blonde alien. Thor tastes like licorice and gin, and he kisses like he's trying to win, all firm pressure and thrusting tongue. Foggy feels like the air is being squeezed out of his lungs, and that's probably because it sort of is, because Thor has gone from holding him against the wall to just sort of leaning against him bonelessly.

Foggy manages to disentangle their lips by moving his head to the side. "Whoa there, buddy," he gasps, "not that I don't _love_ the enthusiasm, but I'm pretty sure that's the alcohol talking. I think there's more of it than you in there right now."

Thor hums against his neck, and Foggy can't tell if it's an agreement or not. Thor pushes himself away from the wall, putting a couple of inches between their faces, and he's looking like he's having trouble keeping his eyes open. "Have I misread your desires? I assumed from the way you gaze at the Captain that you bed men."

Okay, if it's that obvious, it's probably time to reexamine that little crush, but at the moment there are more interesting things to deal with. "No, no, you've, uh...interpreted correctly. But you are _really_ hammered. Why don't we go back to the party? Maybe get you a glass of water or something."

Thor considers for a moment, then straightens up (well, mostly--he's leaning slightly to the right) and nods. "More revelry. Then seduction later."

"Right. Later." Sure, let's just casually continue you drunkenly hitting on me. _That_ doesn't sound awkward at all.

Thor takes a couple steps back towards the party, then one leg buckles, and he crashes into the wall, barely stopping himself from faceplanting the floor. "Walking is...problematic."

"Um, on second thought," Foggy says, trying to figure out the logistics of this, "you've got a room here in the building, right? Why don't we head there and you can have a little lie-down?" Thor gives him a lecherous smile and, wow, that sure inspires some interesting mental images. "You just, uh, look like you could use a rest before any seduction, okay? One thing at a time."

Thor doesn't put up a fight, and Foggy manages to wrangle him into draping an arm over his shoulder again (ow, again), and they follow Thor's meandering directions to his room, involving a couple of wrong turns and a detour to a broom closet for some reason.

Thor has hit the "agreeably pliant" state of drunkenness, and allows Foggy to help him with his boots. He even drinks the glass of water Foggy gives him (do gods get hangovers?) and lets Foggy guide him into bed. "Just a few minutes," he mumbles, "then we'll continue our conversation."

"Sounds good," Foggy says encouragingly. "Looking forward to it. Here, let me get the blanket for you." Foggy stashes the gin in the kitchen, pours another glass of water, and is entirely unsurprised when he returns to find Thor snoring softly. He leaves the water next to the bed and slips out as quietly as he can manage.

This may well trump "finding out Matt is Daredevil" for the title of Weirdest Night Ever.

\--

On Monday there's a knock at the office door, and Foggy nearly drops his coffee when Thor walks in. He looks around curiously, then his eyes settle on Foggy and he nods in greeting. "Foggy Nelson," he says, his voice crisp and formal, "may I speak to you in private?"

"Y-yeah, sure." They go into the conference room, and Foggy's heart is hammering in his throat as he closes the door.

"I apologize for my untoward behavior Saturday night," Thor says without preamble. 

"Don't worry about it," Foggy says with a shrug he hopes looks casual. "It's no big deal, really. You were _really_ drunk."

"It was inappropriate to force myself on you, however inebriated I was. I assure you that it won't happen again."

"I, uh, don't mind if it happens again." Foggy panics as he realizes he said those words out loud. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "I mean, if you want. Just...sometime when you're not that plastered."

When he leaves the conference room a few minutes later, he's got a huge shit-eating grin on his face, Thor's phone number on the back of a business card in his pocket, and a dinner date on his calendar. Karen stares, and he shrugs. _No big deal, I'm just having a date with a god on Wednesday._

This new life is going to take some getting used to, but Foggy's pretty sure he's _completely_ okay with that.


End file.
